EXCERPT from the WINNING STORY

Fiona McElree - Tide

 

Snap, crackle and pop. The bladderwrack higher up the rocks had gone crispy in the sun. Further down in a rockpool were three cigarette butts and a condom – the remnants of an assignation far, far away, or possibly just up the coast.

Further down again, it got slippery. The tiny ripples - riplets - of slack tide barely disturbed the punk-green tresses trailing in the water, didn’t move even the smallest pebbles at the edge of a patch of stones they reached, just nudged a few grains of coarse sand into temporary suspension. The smell of the sea at low tide is the smell of seaweed pheromones, released by its eggs to attract sperm.

For an hour the water lapped listlessly at the land. Then the sound changed. A stronger ripple that caused the smaller stones to shift, then another, and another – too regular to be the wake of a vessel out to sea. The tide had turned. Nothing could stop it now. In six hours, none of this would be visible, and waves would dance almost up to the edge of the esplanade before retreating again, losing ground, pulling back to lie, six hours later, in oily quiescence in the dark.

Above all that, above the high tide mark, he had found a comfortable spot on the rocks where he could bake in the sun, undisturbed. No-one swam on this side. No-one would interrupt him as he went over it all in his head again.

“I don’t want you round me,” she’d said. “Go away.”

But he knew she loved him. He took a swig from his can, and spilt some on his T-shirt. Of course she loved him. They were meant to be together. So why had she reacted like that?

She’d been a bit off since that one time, mind you, that morning in the shop, when the manager had asked him to leave. He knew she was nervous about being seen with him after that. She might have lost her job.

It still didn’t explain it though. What they’d had was bigger than any prick of a manager, more important than a job in a poxy shop.

He shifted slightly, to get more comfortable, and saw that the seaweed had stained his trainers. Shit.

None of it made any sense, so he went back to the beginning again.

They’d met and fallen in love, like a bolt of lightning. It was instant – no hesitation on either side. They’d left the nightclub and gone back to her place, where they’d made love all night. Next morning they’d swapped mobile numbers.

He smiled when he thought of those early days - the magic days, when everything was working to bring them closer and closer together. But her face from last night kept breaking in, preventing him from thinking clearly. What was wrong with her?

He finished his can, belched, and tried to throw it into the sea. The empty can was too light to travel far, and it barely reached the edge of the water.

He settled back in his rocky seat and allowed himself to drift off to sleep for a while. He needed a break from his head...​

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